Winds of War
by Winter Savior
Summary: You know the story, but not like this... Before the rebellion that would change the realm, words were already being spoken, and whispers carried through the air. Stark, Tully, Arryn, and Lannister plotted within the realm of the dragons, playing a dangerous game...a game of thrones. Prequel series before and during Robert's Rebellion working within canon & non-plothole deviations


The sound of metal against metal rang out in the practice yard of Winterfell. A crowd had gathered to watch as the young lords Brandon Stark and Elbert Arryn duel with blunted swords. Cheers rang out for both men when a blow was struck or a sword thrust was blocked. Elbert ducks a swipe directed at his head. Brandon lunges forward as Elbert moves to rise. Brandon's shield slams into Elbert and sends him tumbling into the dirt and his sword flying from his hand. Elbert reaches for his sword but Brandon puts his own under Arryn's chin. Elbert looks up slowly at Brandon.

**Elbert**: I yield.

As he said it, a grin stretched across his face. Brandon carried a grin on his own as he helped his friend to his feet while the onlookers clapped and cheered their approval. Some break away and go back to their duties. A pair of the onlookers, a girl and lad of a similar appearance to Brandon but younger in age, turn to one another.

**Benjen Stark**: One day I'll be as good a fighter as Brandon.

The girl looks at her brother and feigns annoyance.

**Lyanna**: Why not me? I'm better than Brandon, I've beaten him before.

Benjen laughs.

**Benjen**: For the times you've bested him I can count on one hand. For the times he's bested you I'd need five more. Southron gods say seven is the lucky number. Perhaps this is the day.

Brandon and Elbert jest about the duel and start to depart when a rock hit Brandon in the back of the head. He turns see his sister wielding the dropped practice sword and a smirk on her face.

**Lyanna**: Leaving so soon?

Brandon shakes his head, obviously amused.

**Brandon**: Again with this Lyanna?

Still, he picks up his sword and meets his sister in the middle of the yard. Some of the crowd had left, but others turned to see this new duel about to begin.

**Lyanna**: Not afraid are you Bran?

**Brandon**: Of you? 'Course not.

With neither shield nor leather armor, Lyanna charges at her brother. Brandon brings his sword up to parry her blade, knocking it out of the way as he goes forward for his own attack. Lyanna maneuvers under the blade and goes for goes for Brandon's helmed head. Brandon brings his arm back and sends his elbow into Lyanna's forearm. With a cry of surprise, Lyanna drops her sword and Brandon swivels on a heel, getting behind his sister and bringing his blade to bear at her throat. A look of superiority covers his face.

**Brandon**: Do you yield?

In answer, Lyanna grabs his arm and heaves him up and over with all her strength. He crashes onto his back and his own blade now at his throat while Lyanna kneels over him.

**Lyanna**: Do you yield?

Her brother sighs.

**Brandon**: Yes.

A mix of laughter and applause comes up from the audience. Benjen is seen shaking his head as he hands over a few coins to the winner of their wager.

**Benjen**: Today. It had to be today Lyanna…

Rickard Stark looks down at the scene in the yard from his solar in the tower. Off to his side just near the door, Maester Walys clears his throat.

**Walys**: My lord, Prince Rhaegar has succeeded in getting Lord Whent to call the tourney at Harrenhal.

Lord Stark turns from the window and back to his maester, giving a nod to the old man.

**Rickard**: Good. Who did Rhaegar send to talk to Whent?

**Walys**: Lord Whent's younger brother of the Kingsguard, Oswell Whent.

**Rickard**: Lord Whent trusts his brother's council above all others. We needed him. The size and wealth of Harrenhal are more than enough to accommodate the many great lords that will descend on the castle.

**Walys**: There's also the matter of the betrothals, my lord. Hoster Tully awaits your arrival at Riverrun to discuss the details of the dowry, while Lord Arryn will speak in place of Robert Baratheon, though Robert and Eddard will be along in joining us for the journey south.

**Rickard**: Robert Baratheon is the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands now; it would do him well to at least sit in on such matters.

**Walys**: The young lord is not his father. He has a bastard with him in the Vale you know.

**Rickard**: Aye, I hold no ill will for the lad, I'm giving him my daughter after all, but I won't say I don't wish his father had picked a better day to return to port. The lad knows much and more of whores and wine, but less and little of how to rule.

**Walys**: Meanwhile young Eddard is said to become more like his foster father Lord Arryn with each passing day.

Lord Stark turns his back to Walys and takes to looking down at the yard once more.

**Rickard**: Jon Arryn is a just and honorable man, I can only hope that Eddard has taken from him such traits and more.

Walys nods and starts to leave but turns around.

**Walys**: My lord, the great lords have been called and will descend upon Harrenhal. What we've planned is treason. Of this, I must ask…are you certain?"

**Rickard**: In this world only winter is certain.

The garden of the Red Keep is awash with light as the midday sun breaks through the green canopy to shed light on the scene. Sitting alone in the garden, Rhaegar thrums his harp, his fingers running across it's strings as he lulls the earth with his voice. He is oblivious to the blonde haired Lannister hiding around the corner listening dreamily, not daring to peak around the corner. Rhaegar suddenly ends his song with a final pluck of the string. When he spoke, the melody remained in his words.

**Rhaegar**: I can see you over there. There's no need to hide. Come on out.

Cersie looks as if he heart has just skipped a beat or few. She turns to move from around the corner, but stops dead in her tracks, jumping back behind the pillar. Her face is flushed red upon seeing Rhaegar's daughter Rhaenys step into view from the underbrush. Rhaenys' eyes are gleaming and tears streak her brown face. Rhaegar puts down his heart and opens his arms for his daughters embrace.

**Rhaegar**: My must you cry?

His words send her into a greater fit, but she is able to get her answer out.

**Rhaenys**: Your singing.

**Rhaegar**: Did you not like it?

Rhaenys pulls away to look at him and starts to wipe the tears away as she shakes her head.

**Rhaenys**: No, it was beautiful.

**Rhaegar**: What then?

**Rhaenys**: But it was so sad. Why do you have to be so sad father?

Cersie moves to look around the corner at the scene in the garden once more when a voice from behind her speaks.

**Tywin**: You'll never have him, even if he'd wanted. His father has made sure of that.

**Cersie**: I can dream can't I?

**Tywin**: You can. But at some point you wake up and realize that the dreams were just that, and just as dreams do, they fade as you return to the reality of it all.

He puts his hand on his daughter's shoulder. Cersie jerks away, a mix of outrage and sadness evident on her face.

**Cersie**: What do you know of dreams?

The Hand of the King watches as she departs before he turns and steps into the garden.

**Tywin**: Rhaegar.

The Prince hands off his daughter to a servant and goes over to the Hand.

**Tywin**: I'd request a few words with your grace. In my tower if you will.

Once in the Tower of the Hand, a serving girl pours wine for Tywin and moves to pour for Prince Rhaegar, but he places a hand over the goblet.

**Rhaegar**: None for me thank you.

Tywin gestures the servant out of the room and waits until the door closes behind her before he begins to speak.

**Tywin**: The ravens have flown and by now have reached the other lords of the realm. What of Martell?

**Rhaegar**: As you'd expect. Elia should be returning soon but she's already sent a rider ahead to inform me of Doran's decision. He'd have liked to have known the names of the others to be sure, but understood why best not.

The Hand takes a sip of the wine.

**Tywin**: The South is of no bother to us. Prince Doran will drag his feet, but he will do right for his sister and her children's sake. It is our friends up north that we should be wary of. They've formed quite an alliance.

It's then that Cersie comes into the conjoining room and hears Rhaegar's voice through the door.

**Rhaegar**: Are you not also tied to them Lord Hand?

**Tywin**: My son Jaime is to be betrothed to Hoster Tully's youngest daughter Lysa.

Cersie lets out a shriek but covers her mouth to muffle it.

**Tywin**: Still, theirs is more than just a bond of war partners.

**Rhaegar**: And you with them if you'd taken Lord Rickard's offer to foster your boy at Winterfell instead of Crakehall.

Tywin grimaced.

**Tywin**: These are great lords, Lord Paramounts all. When we unseat one dragon, what is stopping them from unseating another?

**Rhaegar**: And you. What is stopping you Lord Paramount? You've been my father's hand for years, yet you plot against him. Should I trust you?

**Tywin**: I have been in service to the crown for many years. I have watched you grow and your father madden. You are the king the realm needs. But no, trust no one when you play the game of thrones.

The night is dark and few fires burn within the Red Keep at this hour. King Aerys gazes into the fire as it burns in the brazier. Aside from his loose robe, he is unclothed. His hands rest on the shoulders of the naked woman seated before him. He caresses her body, taking care to press into the places that bear bruises or bloody bite marks, making the woman wince in pain.

**Aerys**: The flames, they're beautiful aren't they sister? Do they not make you yearn?

Queen Rhaella gives no answer. She looks unmoved as she stares into the flames. Aerys scowls. He reaches out and grabs her around the neck from behind.

**Aerys**: I asked you a question.

Rhaella had been pulled partly from the chair as Aerys grasped on her neck. She manages to speak out.

**Rhaella**: What would you have of me, my king?

In answer, Aerys flung her out of the chair and to the floor. Aerys kicked the chair away and bent over to pull his sister-wife's head off the floor by her hair.

**Aerys**: I'll have you on your knees.

Rhaella got to work and before long, a knock came to the door of Aerys' chambers. From the other side of the door, his Kingsguard for the night, Ser Arthur Dayne spoke.

**Dayne**: Your Grace, the prince would have a word with you.

**Aerys**: Which Prince?

**Dayne**: Rhaegar. He awaits your presence in the Great Hall.

King Aerys made sure to leave himself on his sister before making his way with Dayne down to the Great Hall. There, Rhaegar awaited him with the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Gerold Hightower, as well as Jonathan Darry and Barristan Selmy. Hightower was nursing a wound in his side, but otherwise seemed unharmed.

**Rhaegar**: The Kingwood Brotherhood attacked Elia's escort on their way back here.

Simply going off of the prince's expression, one wouldn't think that they were talking about his wife.

**Aerys**: Has she returned then?

**Rhaegar**: She's safe.

**Hightower**: Some valuables were taken from the escort, and one man was taken. We found him the next morning…that'd given him to the Smiling Knight.

**Aerys**: He lives?

**Hightower**: Barely, your grace. He's being tended to as we speak.

**Rhaegar**: It's time something was done about the Kingswood. We cannot have brigands at our doorstep.

**Aerys**: My son and I speak of a similar mind. Hightower, you'll remain here, let your wound heal. Dayne and Selmy, I want the two of you to gather a detachment and ride into the Kingswood to put an end to this.

The Kingsguard bowed to their liege and Rhaegar gave a nod to his father before making his departure. Before the last white cloak was out the door, Aerys called out.

**Aerys**: Darry.

Ser Jon turned back to the king.

**Darry**: Your Grace?

**Aerys**: There was mention of a wounded man.

**Darry**: Yes.

**Aerys**: I fear he won't make it to the morning.

Ser Jonathan's expression did not change, but his understanding is clear.

**Darry**: Doubtful sire.

**Aerys**: Have him sent to the lower level. I'll join him shortly. It grows cold on nights like this. He'll want a warm reprieve.


End file.
